Disquiet
by Nicoteen
Summary: She blames them for her dissatisfaction.


_A/N:_ This was bugging me.

**Dislaimer:** I do not own anything you recognize, or the lyrics.

_Losing your head is such a common theme  
All your brains are falling out, falling out the open seams  
Where is the heart, is the heart of the matter  
I will empty out my skull of all this useless chatter_

Ariadne had trouble breathing.

Ever since Cobb left to reconnect with his children, to regain his family, her chest seemed to have difficulty expanding with every breath she took. A little constriction, but she payed no mind. His single mindedness hurt more; she'd done so much for him, helped him, and now nothing? Cobb had opened up her life to these endless possibilities and just expected her to go back to Paris, laa-dee-da?

It was insulting. But then again, she'd always been a litte bitter about abandonment.

Arthur dissappeared with a small smile and a wave, invisible in the crowd of the airport. He kept in touch for a few months after she returned to Paris, a few phone calls here and there, emails every week. The phone calls stopped around Christmas, the emails two weeks later. Ariadne took bigger breaths, sure she was just tired.

Saito had lingered the longest. Taking bother her hands in his, he had thanked her sincerely, praising her skills as an architecht. He'd promised her share would be wired immediately, and offered her free airline tickets any time she needed them. Embarassed she she was, Ariadne took up his offer and flew to Paris a week after staying in Los Angeles.

She hadn't even seen Eames leave. The architecht assumed the forger had better (shadier, more lucrative) places to be.

As she moved about her daily life in Paris, pushing through her course load and working steadily to avoid Miles or any mention of Cobb, she began to breathe a little easier. The tightness in her chest loosened a little and the mind-numbing routine that was her life started to grow on her a little bit.

Until the day, that she spotted him in the market.

Sitting on an uncomfortable wire chair outside a small cafe (they were ridiculously abundant in Paris), Ariadne had several textbooks opened before her, pictures and diagrams littering every page, her coffe tipping dangerously towards the edge. A loud honk sounded through the street and she looked up, peering around to find the source. Almost instantly, she spotted him, hovering over a counter and arguing pleasantly with the owner.

As if sensing her shocked gaze, Eames turned his head slowly and looked at her. A small smirk curved his lips before he winked cheekily and turned, dissappearing into the crowd.

She had to stick her head between her knees for a full five minutes before she regained her breath.

ooo

Ariadne had almost recovered from Eames impromptu appearance when she spotted him again. She had been attending a rather large lecture, the room filled to the brim with students and observers alike. Miles (_Professor_, she corrected herself) had suggested she attend. Unfortunately, her mind was stuck on an assignment she had puzzled over for hours the previous night, faint bags under her eyes betraying her lack of sleep.

Feeling slightly guilty at her lack of attention, Ariadne raised her head from her hand and looked around, attempting to wake herself up. Turning her head to the back of the room, a familiar figure lounged lazily in the doorway, a handful of peanuts or somesuch in tow.

Their eyes locked and that irritatingly familiar smirk crept unto his face. Raising his free hand, he blew her a kiss just as the bell rang and the lecture ended.

Ariadne stood frantically, grabbing her bag and racing up the steps, pushing through the crowd, desperate to reach him. She was stopped just outside the lecture hall, the crowd to thick to move any further.

Panicked, she realized she could no longer spot him and her chest tightened painfully. Gasping, she clutched her shirt and pitched forward, worried shouts erupting around her as she fell to her knees.

Breath stuck in her throat, Ariadne's eyes shuttered closed, her last conscious thought drifting lazily in her mind.

"_He looks worried...bastard."_

ooo

Eyes opened slowly and Ariadne gazed about, confused. A small cough sounded next to her and she turned.

"And I thought Arthur was the one who took your breath away." He smirked.

The arhictecht growled under her breath and thwacked him with the hospital pillow.

"You ASSHOLE!" She screeched.

Snickering, Eames backed away, hands raised in defence.

"Don't push yourself darling. We wouldn't want you to be _short of breath,_ would we?"

Ariadne huffed.

ooo

"How's your breathing, dear?" The nurse asked kindly.

"Fine, it's...it's fine."

The forger smirked.


End file.
